Fit for You

by Cynthia Tennent

  Elizabeth leaned across the table. “This is exciting stuff. Seeing you on television, our own Truhart fitness trainer.”

  “The game is exciting, too. We should watch it!”

  She waved my suggestion away with the flick of her wrist. “Look at you. You’re so humble.”

  Oh Lord, if she only knew. Bootie switched back to the show. I picked up my beer and drank the whole thing as they showed a clip of the participants being weighed. The screen split for a video montage of the first day in which participants used the equipment for the first time. The bikes. The ellipticals. The weights.

  The beer that I had just inhaled was doing somersaults in my stomach. I covered a burp.

  Then the screen shifted to an interview with Rod Macintosh. He stood with his arms crossed in a he-man stance that made him look larger than his five foot nine. As he talked, Aubrey shouted, “Hey! Shut up. I can’t hear what he is saying, everyone.”

  I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the screen. The camera angle shifted over Rod’s shoulder and my palms grew sweaty. I clutched the end of the table.

  To my horror, a blurry Farrah and I stepped on identical treadmills. The camera refocused and our images were clear. My treadmill increased at a faster rate, while she settled into a walk. How had they filmed this? I thought they were doing the Rod interview.

  The scene replayed in my mind. The way my index finger pressed down on the treadmill’s control panel. The feel of the smooth surface and the exact spot where I adjusted the setting to a lower speed. Or so I thought.

  I saw myself turn back to Farrah. The slow-motion replay was cruel.

  I looked around the restaurant at the people of Truhart who were about to witness the second worst moment of my life. My gaze rested on Edge, who was looking at me, not the screen.

  Someone nearby said, “It’s so cool she’s right here in Truhart to help us now.”

  Not cool. Not cool! I wanted to scream. I stood up and looked for an escape. I couldn’t bear to witness what the network had evidently decided was a good ratings ploy.

  I was out the door before it happened.

  But not soon enough.

  The sound of the bar erupting in a collective groan followed me into the cool night air.

  No need to see the calamity, I knew what they were showing. Me. Catching my foot on the edge of the treadmill. Falling toward my client, tripping up her stride as well. She almost missed me as she went down. But she didn’t.

  I broke her fall.

  She landed on top of me in an embarrassing moment for both of us. The only thing the television didn’t capture was the sound of my knee. The tiny pop echoed inside me like a cannon for a long time after that. Even now.

  Pop . . . pop . . . pop.

  * * *

  A breeze from the trees nearby blew across my face, turning the hot moisture on my cheeks to ice. Standing in the chill in nothing but a thin cotton shirt, I should have been cold. But all I felt was heat. An unbearable surge of fear and mortification that wouldn’t stop.

  This was what Chip had tried to warn me about in his phone call. My contract said that all images of me from that first day of filming were the property of the network. When he mentioned it, I hadn’t given the incident another thought. I assumed that my replacement, the overeager Jaimie from the Pacific X Gym, had been quickly substituted, with little comment, to fill my slot. She was cute and looked like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde. The camera would fall in love with her for sure.

  It had never occurred to me that somewhere a lens or an angle had caught my accident. I shut my eyes and squeezed tight, trying to forget the moment the camera had zoomed over Rod’s shoulder.

  A door opened, leaking the raucous noise of the restaurant into the parking lot.

  I opened my eyes and peered through the window of the restaurant, relieved to see an advertisement on TV of a man and a woman frolicking across a bed.

  “Saved by an erectile dysfunction commercial.”

  Edge.

  I couldn’t face him, even in the dim light. Not because I didn’t want him to see my tears, but because I didn’t want to see his pity.

  “They ought to put a warning on those things,” he said.

  I was confused. “Treadmills?”

  “No, Viagra.”

  Inside, people were back to their chili fries and conversations. Unaffected by my career-ending smashup. I, on the other hand, felt newly devastated.

  I pretended to wipe away a stray piece of hair and managed to brush off the tears on one cheek.

  “Not funny, huh?”

  “No-o.” I pretended to look at my shoes and went for the other cheek. Silly. Who the hell was I fooling?

  I tried to cover my sniffle and gave up. “Can you believe I did that?”

  “Left the bar? It is a lot nicer out here. We’ll hit sixty degrees before you know it.”

  The gentle way he avoided the elephant in the parking lot only made me feel worse. “I feel like such a fool.”

  “For standing outside in nothing but a T-shirt? No need to feel embarrassed.”

  “You know what I mean.” My raspy voice was even more raspy than usual. I swallowed and tried again. “I fell off a flippin’ treadmill.”

  “Is that what happened? I thought you were attempting to cushion her fall.”

  I couldn’t stand the way he was trying to be so kind. I turned around and faced him. “What kind of trainer does something that stupid?”

  His answer was gentle. “I don’t think trainers have a corner on stupidity . . . or falling.”

  “Seriously, stop being nice.”

  “Think of it this way. At least you weren’t going eighty miles an hour on icy snow.” His tone was meant to be self-deprecating. But it sounded more bitter to me.

  “God, Edge.” I stepped toward him, until light from the window hit his face. His eyes looked black.

  “Just saying . . .” The corner of his mouth curled up, but his eyes were sad. Weary. I was, too.

  He reached for me and pulled me close. I buried myself in his arms. The sounds of the people inside and the April night were replaced by a beating heart and slow, even breathing.

  “I had no idea they were filming it. I never would have shown my face here tonight if I knew there was a chance people would—oh no.” I croaked. “Aubrey saw it, too.”

  Edge’s hand found my chin and he cupped it until I was looking him squarely in the eye. “Nothing changes because they saw your accident. Nothing. You are still the same lady who is going to help this town get healthy.”

  I grabbed the wrist that held my chin. “No, Edge. It’s all different. No one will ever take me seriously around here again.”

  He turned me around to face the windows. “What do you want from them?”

  That was an odd question. I didn’t understand. “Nothing. I don’t want anything from them. I just want to help them.”

  “Then how are you hurt because they saw something bad happen to you?”

  “They won’t respect me. They’ll think I’m . . .” I collapsed against him. “Oh. I know where this is going.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you can pay my therapist fee tomorrow. For now, just answer the question. What do you want? Do you want to help them or do you want respect from them?”

  “Do I have to choose?”

  “You tell me. Only one of those two things is in your control.”

  I leaned against him with a sigh. He was right. I had no control over respect. Even though I wanted it in the worst way. Not just here in Truhart, or the county. I wanted Chip and Ned and my mom to finally see me as a success. I wanted to make something of myself. Be the kind of person my dad would be proud of. The little girl who still lived inside me felt like no one was ever going to feel that way again.

  I closed my eyes and let myself remember how I reacted that other time. After the worst moment of my life . . . The day that was far worse than falling off a treadmill on national television.

  After
Dad’s heart attack, when Mom and I came home in the late evening to an empty house and the knowledge that our lives had just been shattered, I grabbed my soccer ball and ran outside. In the frigid night, I kicked the ball over and over against the garage, trying desperately to make that imaginary goal I had missed. My heartbroken, childlike mind thought I could make time return me to the moment things went wrong. For hours, I kicked that ball until Mom made me come inside.

  I fingered my necklace. Tonight, that same feeling of futility washed over me. More than ever I wished I had scored that damn goal. I hated to think that the last thing Dad saw was my failure.

  I didn’t pretend this time. I wiped my tears and took the napkin Edge handed me.

  When I finished my pity party, Edge asked, “So, you want to come back inside with me?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t face them.”

  “Okay. We can play tonsil hockey in my truck instead.” His hand slid down to my breast and I pulled out of his arms.

  “Oh my God! You make a joke of everything.”

  He laughed and trailed behind me as I marched back inside Lori’s to face the madding crowd.

  LESSON TWELVE

  Push Yourself, Even When It Hurts

  No one said a word to me as I walked back inside the restaurant. No one had to say anything. The muffled hush that descended on the room was enough. With burning cheeks, I made my way back to the table where J.D. and Elizabeth had just started digging into their meal.

  Edge followed behind me, as if nothing had just happened. He held out my chair and I sat.

  “Hey, how’s the chicken wings tonight, J.D.?” Edge asked. “I tried them with sriracha last time and I tasted them for days afterwards. It was like having leftovers.”

  “Gross,” Elizabeth said, sending me a bright look. I could tell she was concerned.

  Elizabeth’s fiancé played the game of diversion almost as well as Edge. “The way you treat sriracha as if it’s soup, I’m not surprised.”

  I sent them a grateful smile and then a booming voice interrupted us. “Man, that was tough to watch, Lily. I’ve never, and I mean never, seen someone wipe out on a treadmill the way you did.”

  Aubrey planted her hands on the table and I shrunk down on the chair. Before she could sit next to me, Edge plopped down on the vacant seat.

  Aubrey wasn’t put off. She wagged her thumb at the television screen behind her that had shifted back to Comerica Park. They were removing the tarp from the infield.

  “Seriously, Lily. I’m not sure I will ever get on a treadmill again after witnessing that catastrophe. But hey, don’t be embarrassed by what Rod Macintosh said afterward.”

  “What did he say?” I asked in a tiny voice.

  Across from me Elizabeth stuffed chili cheese fries in her mouth at an alarming rate.

  “Oh, you didn’t hear?” Aubrey’s eyes glowed and her lip curled. Then she faked decency. “Maybe I shouldn’t—”

  Edge reached across the table and grabbed a wing and the bottle of sriracha. “Hey, Aubrey, whatever happened to that problem with cold sores you used to ha—”

  Aubrey ignored him. “Rod was all about the fact that some trainers have less experience than others. And the safety-first thing, of course.”

  My cheeks felt as hot as the sauce Edge was currently using to drown the chicken wing J.D. had offered him.

  Rod had been an ass since I met him. He had flirted with all the females and even some of the males. Twice he had asked if I wanted to work out with him. Everyone knew what that code word really meant. Rumor was the man approached sex like he lifted weights. One of the girls on set had described it as heavy breathing, lots of grunting, and a tendency to watch his biceps while thrusting. Even without the TMI comments, I would have refused him. He made my skin crawl.

  The thought of Rod commenting about me on national television was nauseating. I looked at the chicken breast on the plate in front of me and pushed it away.

  Edge waved the chicken wing in front of Aubrey’s nose. She put a hand on Edge’s shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be behind the bar?”

  He untied his bar apron. “Done for the night.”

  She leaned across his body and smashed her breasts against his shoulder. “Hopefully this whole thing won’t affect—”

  Edge freed his arm, grabbed her waist, and squeezed.

  She jumped. “Edge!”

  “Yup! Still the same Aubrey,” he announced. He took a bite of the wing and set it down.

  “I’ve got more muscle than I used to.”

  “You do?” He cocked his head and spanned her waist with his hand. “Where?”

  She grabbed his wrist and planted his palm on her glutes. The sickening smile she sent him made me want to yank his hand away.

  “Well . . . maybe there is a little more—” Edge played dumb better than anyone I had ever met.

  “And here!” She lifted his free hand to an area right above her breasts.

  Edge’s face was straight. But I had a close-up view of his perfectly formed ears. They were turning as red as the sauce on his wing. “This is a family restaurant now, Aubrey. Bootie isn’t into that kind of behavior in the place these days.”

  Elizabeth put a finger to her throat as if she were gagging and J.D. covered his laugh with a cough.

  Edge tried to remove his hands. Aubrey wouldn’t let him. Still unfazed, Edge said, “Eh. Not bad. They’re almost as firm as Lily’s. You trainers must work really hard to develop that kind of muscle tone.”

  I lowered my head into my hands. Was this really happening?

  Aubrey’s brother, Andrew, suddenly appeared at her elbow. “Take your hands off my sister!”

  “I wasn’t—”

  He pushed Aubrey out of Edge’s hands. “You’ve had a thing for her for years, but you’re too late.”

  Edge raised his brow. “A thing? Like a bad memory, you mean?” Aubrey didn’t seem to care that her brother had leaped to the wrong conclusion. She held her arms across her chest as if Edge had just attacked her.

  “You’re nothing but a washed-up loser with a rinky-dink putt-putt golf course to keep you busy,” said Andrew.

  “Now you’re hurting my feelings. I might not let you play next time you bring your mommy.”

  The little woman, Reeba Sweeney, who was sitting with Aubrey and Andrew, arrived at the table. “I told you we should have had drinks at the Grande Lucerne. Truhart is full of crazies.”

  Andrew’s nostrils widened when he sneered, making him look slightly bovine. He narrowed his eyes. “This town can’t even hire a trainer who knows how to use a treadmill. They’re not only crazy, they’re dumb.”

  Abruptly, Edge pushed his chair out and stood up. He was taller than Andrew and close enough that he forced Andrew to arch his neck. “Funny you should be talking about dumb, Drew. I seem to remember a time when you cleaned your daddy’s car with an S.O.S pad.”

  Andrew’s face turned purple and he pushed against J.D.’s chest. “I was just eighteen, you scum.”

  Edge touched his chin. “Oh, I forgot, too young to read the box.”

  They stood toe to toe and nose to eyebrow. Even though Edge was taller, the challenge was obvious.

  Elizabeth moaned. “Not again. Bootie just fixed the place up so it looks nice after the last fight.”

  Speaking of... Bootie arrived with a bowl of nachos. He shoved himself between both men. “Free nachos to whoever wins an arm-wrestling match.” He winked at Edge. So this was how it was around here on Fridays? I had thought Edge was joking when he first mentioned arm wrestling to me.

  Andrew looked down his nose at Bootie. “Arm wrestling? Gross. That means I’d have to touch him. We’re leaving now.”

  Bootie offered the nachos to Edge. “Winner by default.”

  “I could totally beat you if I wanted,” Andrew said, a bead of sweat forming at his hairline.

  “Name a date and time,” Edge said, casually grabbing the plate of nachos and sitting do
wn. “I’ll give you time to work out with your fitness instructor since I can see batwings under your arms, Drew.”

  Andrew Vanderbeek couldn’t help peeking at his sagging underarm fat. “There’s nothing—”

  “If you flap you might fly.”

  “You want to arm wrestle now? I’ll totally do you now.”

  Edge took a bite of the nachos and shrugged, as if the idea were mildly interesting but not quite enough to hold his attention. “Okay.”

  “I’m gonna shatter his wrist when I slam it,” Andrew said to his big sister and Reeba with the brown halo around her head.

  Aubrey adjusted the girls in her bra. “Now, now. Be a good sport and don’t hurt Edge. He needs his hands to scoop.”

  Word of the challenge passed from table to table. Andrew swept his hair to the side of his head as a small crowd formed around us. “Maybe your girlfriend should give you a few pointers.”

  Edge put his arm around me, practically pulling me into his lap. “Maybe she could. But that would be an unfair advantage.”

  Andrew sneered. “Didn’t you see Just Lose It just now? She’s a disaster. I’m surprised she hasn’t already fallen off her chair and broken her leg.”

  Edge’s arm slid off my shoulder and his fist dropped on the table. I jumped. So did the table next to us.

  Aubrey looked unsettled for the first time. “Come on, Andrew. We’ll be late for our dinner.” She grabbed her brother’s arm and tried to get him to leave.

  “No. I’m gonna wrestle his sorry ass right here, right now.” He pulled a chair up and nudged Elizabeth out of the way.

  Edge looked down his nose at Andrew. Even sitting, Edge towered over him. “I think we have a booster chair in the back room, Vanderbeek. You sure you don’t want Aubrey to get it for you?”

  Andrew placed his elbow on the table and held up his hand. “Come on, Callahan. Stop being a funny man. Or are you scared?”

  Edge looked directly into Vanderbeek’s eyes and placed his own elbow on the table with casual disinterest. “Fine.”

  The noise level in the rest of the room had risen during the interchange as the crowd speculated on who would win. Some of the spectators stood on chairs. I heard bets being made at the bar. Flo Jarvis was holding a piece of paper and taking cash.